34 comments/ 79745 views/ 12 favorites You Can Have Her By: toomuchinmyhead AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one is a little rougher than ...oh, just read it. No point describing it. The ending is kind of a downer. * I saw Carrie's name on my cell and picked it up. "Hi, Carrie, what's up?" "Jeff, I- I need to see you." It was not unusual for Carrie to call me unannounced, as she was married, and we saw each other only when she could get away. But there was urgency in her voice that I hadn't heard in our nine-month relationship. "Is everything okay?" I asked. "You sound a little, I dunno, edgy?" "Yes, yes," she reassured me, "but please, could you come over? Right away? Something has, uh-m, come up. We need to talk." Uh-oh. The moment of truth, I thought. Her cheeseball husband Frank suspects something? Found out? I told her I'd be there in twenty minutes and scooted out of the house to my seven year old Toyota. I made my way on the familiar route to her house, from my side of town over to the upscale, ritzy side, where Carrie lived with her well-to-do husband, Frank, in their big house with the pool and all. Mind you, it was no sacrifice to be having an affair with a rich woman, but that's not what our relationship was about. I thought about us, and our past, in the light of this potential crisis as I drove. We'd met at a bar, of all places, but not one where I usually hang out. No, I had taken some part-time work for some extra cash with one of my friends, working a swanky bar as a bartender. Carrie was there with friends, and we got into a conversation that lasted, on and off, throughout the evening. In the end her friends left, and she stayed, talking to me as the crowd dwindled, and I walked her to her car before cleaning up after closing. There wasn't even a kiss that night, but we both felt we'd made a special connection. We met off and on over the next weeks, for lunch at first, then an evening date. I kind of suspected she was married, although I never asked, and she didn't offer. She would call me when she had the chance, and I would meet her. We were seeing each other for a few months before we slept together, and she confessed her marriage, and she cried for deceiving me. I came to learn that it was loveless on her part, that she'd married a man she'd been attracted to, too quickly, and had grown accustomed to the lifestyle. But he loved her, he said, and she went along. She'd never planned to cheat, had told herself it was wrong, but then met me, and ... well, we just kind of fell into it. And by then, we were in love, deeply, the kind you read about, but never happens to you or anyone you know. Just being with her lifted my spirits, and when we were apart it hurt with a physical ache. I know she felt the same; she'd confessed as much, and the idea of her being married to a lout like Frank was disturbing. We had recently begun discussing out future, but she balked at the idea of divorce, she said Frank would never let her go. Her told her he loved her, but she told me he was possessive and controlling easy to anger, and suspicious. And I guess now, his suspicions were true. When I pulled up in her long, circular driveway I pulled all the way up and around the side of the house, the way I always did. I'd been here plenty of times, as Frank travelled for work a great deal. I came back to the front and checked my watch: twenty-two minutes, pretty good timing. I knocked and waited. She answered, and the distress was clear on her face. "Carrie, honey," I said entering, "What's the matter?" And everything went black. When I woke I was paralyzed and blind, and someone was driving an ice pick into the back of my head. As my eyes and brain cleared I realized that there was no ice pick, but the lump on my head throbbed with a sharp, piercing pain, and I was duct-taped to a chair. I wasn't blind either; it just took a lot of courage and fortitude to open my eyes. When I did pry them open I recognized my surroundings, it was the guest bedroom in Carrie's house. I thought I saw Carrie naked on the bed and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to blink away the cobwebs without moving my head. "Oh," I heard from my left, "Pretty boy is awake!" I couldn't turn, or move my head; I guessed that it, too, was taped to the chair. There was a shuffle, and Frank walked into my line of sight. "Nice to see you, Lover Boy!" he sneered. "Have a nice nap?" "Wh-What's going on?" I managed. "What's going on?" he barked. "I'll fucking tell you what's going on. You're fucking my wife! That's what the fuck is going on!" I heard Carrie start sobbing from behind Frank, blubbering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again. God, I thought, if he hurt her ... He must have seen my thoughts on my face. "Aww, isn't that cute? Lover Boy is concerned for MY WIFE'S welfare." He smirked, and punched me in the stomach. I grunted as the air blew out of my lungs, and would have doubled over if I hadn't been restrained. "Fuck you, Jeffie! You like that?! That's what you get when you fuck another man's wife!" Carrie was wailing, begging him to stop. I suddenly felt helpless and inadequate as the woman I loved tried to protect me from harm. I watched his face twist in a knot of fury as he spun and lunged to the bed where she lay, naked. "Shut the fuck up, you whore!" he railed, leaning over the bed with his face inches from hers. It wasn't until then, when she didn't leap off the bed that I realized she was tied down, and my heart sank. I had a very, very bad feeling that this was not going to end well."You fucking cheating WHORE! Shut up!" He was furious, spitting in his rage. "Frank," I called out, and his head snapped up to glare at me, eyes wild. He leaped towards me, stopping his face with our noses almost touching. "You got something to say, Lover Boy?" he snarled. I heard Carrie's terrified sobs, and I remembered the punch. I spoke softly, trying to be reasonable. "Frank, this doesn't have to happen; it doesn't have to be like this." "Oh, yeah, like YOU get a fucking vote!" he spat. "Trust me shithead, you have no idea how it's going to be." I tried to imagine the worst that could happen, and saw myself in the hospital after a vicious beating, and I cringed as he stepped away. He straightened, and looked at each of us, and his face took on an amused and barely sane expression. "Well, I have some things to take care of, so why don't you 'lovers' have a little chat?" He strolled the room. "Get in touch with your emotions," he spit, the sarcasm dripping evilly from his voice. "Share your feelings." He strode to the door. "Profess your UNDYING love. I'll be back shortly." He stamped out and closed the door; I heard the lock click solidly. Carrie was moaning and and crying, and I called to her several times before she quieted enough to answer. She immediately started apologizing, and resumed sobbing. I asked what happened, and she explained that he'd had her followed, confronted her, slapped her around, and forced her to lure me here. She apologized profusely, and I told her it was all right, I understood. She finally became silent, interrupted by occasional hitching breaths. "What do you think he'll do?" I asked. "What's he capable of?" "I don't know," she confessed," I've never seen him like this. I- I've seen him angry before, and he's been, you know, rough sometimes, but I've never seen him this angry." I struggled in my chair, despite the pain in my head, but found it was futile; I was strapped in good. "He wouldn't, you know, uh-m," I started, afraid of saying the words, "kill us, would he?" "Oh, Jeff, I just don't now," she bleated, and began crying again. I called to her several times before she calmed enough to talk again. "Carrie, I want you to know, that whatever happens, I love you. However this night turns out, I still love you, will always love you. I'm sorry I got us into this mess, sorry for the trouble." She sniffed a little, and mewled her misery. "I- I...I'll do whatever I can to protect you." "No, baby, it's not your fault. I don't regret a single moment of what we have, and I wouldn't change a thing," she called to me. "I think I hear him coming!" I watched as her body tensed, as if bracing for a blow in her bonds. As footsteps approached I looked at her, so beautiful, even in her bound and vulgar state, her fine, smooth skin glistening under the harsh lights with a sheen of sweat, and her breasts jiggling as her sobs began anew. Between her legs I could see her perfect shaved vagina, and I suppressed a feeling of guilt for looking. The steps got closer, and then I knew there were more than two feet approaching. The lock turned and the door opened. Frank entered, and three other guys and a girl entered, big, nasty, biker types. The guys were burly and hairy, and the woman had a hard look to her. All wore an assortment of black leather and denim, looking like real rough trade. My testicles pulled up into my body in fear. "Well, Lovebirds, have you made your peace and said your goodbye's?" The knot in my stomach clenched and I knew, for certain, that I would be killed. "I would introduce you, but let's face it, there's really no need," he chuckled evilly, and the other four laughed with him. "These are some, shall we say, 'Business Associates' of mine, and they are going to give me a hand solving my problem tonight." He motioned with his chin in my direction, looking at two of the thugs. They loped to me, and one suddenly slammed his fist into the side of my face. The other took a few hard punches to my midsection, and I gasped for breath, trying not to lose consciousness as the blow to my head shook me, making my vision dance with flashing lights. As my hearing and vision returned, I heard laughter and Carrie's screaming. Opening my eyes I saw the leather chick pulling her nipples, hard and away from her body, turning her beautiful breasts in to cones, stretched painfully from her chest. I managed half a word of protest before a fist smashed into my cheek, and blood poured from my mouth. "Shut the fuck up, asshole," the bearded one commanded. I remained silent, waiting for my vision to clear. I heard Frank jeering at Carrie. "They'll beat him to death, you know that," he was saying, and the knot tightened in my chest. "You want to save him? Huh? You want to save your Lover Boy?" Carrie was howling in pain, and I could see the leather bitch had attached something to her nipple. Frank motioned to her, and she removed it, and stepped back. He put his hand under her head, and lifted, making her face me, and motioned to the two thugs. Blows rained down on me. I heard them grunting with the effort, heard Carrie shrieking in horror, begging them to stop, and then I heard nothing, saw nothing, and soon felt nothing. When I came to, I heard muffled voices, and then my body greeted me with a world of pain, and I wished fervently to slip back into unconsciousness. There was no escaping it, though, and as the sounds and voices became more clear I remembered where I was, and how I got there, and I remembered Carrie. I forced my eyes open. I had been moved closer to the bed, near the foot and facing my married lover. I heard the girl say that I was coming around, and someone threw water in my face. I tasted blood in my mouth as my eyes cleared. Frank's face suddenly filled my field of vision again, a visage of evil and hatred. "Well, Lover Boy," he sneered, "How are you feeling?" "Go fuck yourself," I mumbled through my mashed lips. It hurt to talk. "Still got some fight in you, eh? Don't matter," he said casually, standing and moving away. "We can beat that out of you. No matter how long it takes." "No, please, leave him alone, please," I heard Carrie pleading, and I was taken by my impotence at having my lover beg for me, trying to protect me. Frank turned to her when she spoke. "You want to save your Lover Boy, whore?" he laughed. "Good. Isn't love and devotion wonderful to see?" He came back to me then, his face pushed into mine, so I could feel his spit as he hissed his threats at me. "My whore wife wants to spare you some suffering, Jeffie Boy. Isn't that nice? And I'm going to give her the chance." He was speaking low, just for me. "But you're going to wish that we had beat you to death before it's over," he chuckled. "You're going to get to see just what a slut whore she is." He put his hand on my face, and then slapped me, hard; jarring my consciousness and reviving the sharp pains in my head and face. When I reopened my eyes he was back at Carrie's side. "Well, my whore soon-to-be-ex-wife, you want us not to beat your little boy toy to death? Is that what you said?" "Please, Frank, I'm sorry, please don't hurt him anymore, please..." "You can save him," he told her, loud enough for me to hear. "Beg me for his life." "Please Frank, please don't...hurt him, please I'm begging," she whimpered. She didn't say kill, but I was pretty sure they would. "I'll give you a chance to save him," he gloated. "My friends came here for some fun. I promised them a really good time," he turned to me, and flashed a victorious grin. "They can have fun beating him to a painful death, or," he turned back to her, "they can have fun with you. He reached for her nipple and twisted it painfully, eliciting a squeal from Carrie. "Will you entertain my friends? Will you show them a good time?" He pulled her nipple again, and then slapped her hard. "Well, whore? What's it going to be? You or him?" "Please, Frank, please don't make me..." "Fine," he told her, and turned to his thugs, who were lounging in chairs around the room. "Have at him." They shuffled to their feet and looked at me with dispassionate interest. "No! Please!" Carrie shrieked. "I'll- I'll do whatever you want, please, don't hurt him," she cried. "You're sure, slut? We can just beat him senseless," he laughed. "Please, I'll do what you say, whatever you say," "And you'll be good to my friends?" "Yes, anything, just please don't hurt him," she whimpered, and I felt my male ego respond, remembering his threat. "Carrie, don't," I managed to squawk. Frank ignored my feeble outburst. "Don't you resist, bitch. You cooperate, and we'll spare your little boy," he warned evilly. "You be good to my friends; be a good whore and do whatever they want." "Yes, yes...I..." she cried, "whatever they want, I'll be good, just please don't hurt him." Frank stood then, and waved his friends into action as he came to me. He put his face into mine again, speaking just for me. "You wanted her?" he leered. "You can have her. But first you get to see what whore she really is." He spit in my face. "See if you still want her when we're done!" He smiled maliciously, and turned away. I cringed at the thought of what they might do, but nothing prepared me for the level of his angry revenge or the depraved desires of his 'associates'. The first thing they did was untie her legs from the bed posts; she had been partially spread, her pussy showing but not overly exposed. They took the ropes and stood on the bed, threading them through eye hooks in the ceiling. Then they stepped down off the bed and pulled the ropes. Carrie groaned in dismay as her ankles were pulled up and out, her legs extended straight up and pulled wide apart, pointing at the ceiling. Her pussy spread wide open. Almost immediately the three thugs began undressing. I never learned their names, and in my awful memories they are simply Beard, Brute and Bald. Bald was the first with his pants off, he was a large, broad-shouldered and hard-faced man, and his cock, semi hard, matched his stature. He went directly to the bed, still in his tee shirt, and knelt next to Carrie's head. "Open up, baby," he said to her, waggling his fat cock, "Start sucking like you want it!" Carrie made some whimpering sounds and turned her head. "Oh, it's gonna be like that?" Frank bellowed from the seat he had taken, and motioned to the girl, who I recall as Skank. Skank stood and came to me, and slapped me hard across the face. Then again, on the other side. Though my clouded vision I saw her pull her hand back, but Frank said, "That's better. You do it and like it like you know you do, cunt." Skank stepped back, smirking at me, and I briefly saw Carrie's head bobbing on Bald's cock as he pumped his hips into her face. But then my view of her was blocked as Brute stepped between us, and I saw him line up his cock at her pussy, and my heart stopped. His cock was huge, with a fat bulbous head, and he pushed the big head inside her without preamble. I heard her muffled cry as he penetrated her, and watched her lips spread around him briefly, before they were pushed inside her with the force of his thrust. He pulled out. "She's fucking dry as a bone," he announced, and climbed off the bed. Skank moved off her chair, but Frank stopped her. "Not you," he said, pointing at me. "Him." He grinned, and joined Brute behind my chair. They dragged it, with me still in it, to the foot of the bed, and leaned the chair forward till my chest rested against the edge of the bed, and my face was inches from Carrie's spread pussy, the pussy I loved to lick and suck, the pussy of the woman I loved. "She's saving your life, Jeffie Boy," I heard Frank say over the slurping sounds of the cock pumping Carrie's mouth. "Show her some appreciation." I could hear the grin in his words as I felt Skank's hand on the back of my head, pushing me into her. "Lick it, bitch," she rasped, "Get it nice and wet for some cock!" My lips were pressed against her opening, and I knew that if she remained dry and tight, Brute's big cock would tear her apart. Against my will my tongue slipped into her hole and began teasing her, trying to stimulate her. I pushed my saliva inside her as I licked, hoping it would ease the passage of her defilement that I was powerless to prevent. I heard her moan at my touch; she still wanted me, and only me, I knew it in my heart, and I reacted with my mouth, licking her labia, sucking her pussy the way she likes, and slowly moving up to her clit. Her hips pulsed up into my face, and when I reached the top of her pussy, found her button beginning to grow. I licked around it, shamed at my eagerness to please her while her husband and his thugs watched me and conflicted about my purpose. But she responded to my tongue, and I knew that she did because it was me, and that she appreciated my efforts to minimize her potential discomfort. I worked harder then, spurred by her response despite my surroundings, and licked around her clit, teasing her aroused button to full size, and listening diligently to her responses and verbal cues as to what was working for her. When her humping increased against my face and her moans became steadier, I felt hands pull me back from the bed. But instead of dragging me back they pulled me to the side, so not only was I only a little over a foot away from her wet, spread-open pussy, but when Brute stepped back to her crotch I could still see around him, where Bald was holding her head still with his hands and was fucking her face. Disgusting noises came from her, a "gug-gug-gug," as he banged his cock into the back of her mouth. But I was distracted by Brute, who pushed himself halfway into her on one stroke. "Oh, yeah, much better," he chortled, and he gripped her thighs, hard, and announced, "hang on, slut, you're gonna love this." I watched as he pulled back a little and shoved his entire shaft into her, splitting her pussy wide around his fat shaft. She screamed around Bald's cock, and I saw her eyes opened wide as he pushed in, deeper than she could take. It had to hurt. She lifted her hips in an effort to get away, to pull her pussy back from the brutal assault, but Brute hung on and began pounding long, hard strokes into her. I winced for her every time he went in, knowing what she must be suffering from the cries she tried to emit from her stuffed mouth. As I looked at her face Bald pulled back, and using his hand, began striking and rubbing his cock on her pretty face. I saw Skank get up and walk behind me, coming back into view on the other side of the bed. She took Carrie's head in her hands, holding the sides of her face, and hooking her fingers into Carries mouth. She pulled, and my love's lips stretched wid. You Can Have Her "Open, bitch," Skank told her, and Carrie obeyed, her mouth gaping open with terror in her eyes. Bald spit into her mouth, and then drove his cock into her face, halfway, then pausing; then pushing until it slipped in further, and I heard her gag, and then he pressed his pubic hair to her nose. His ball sack squashed against her chin and her eyes bulged, and I saw her throat bulge from the invasion. And she vomited, a yellow and white viscous fluid shooting out around her lips, into Bald's pubic hair, and he pulled back and shouted as Skank released her head, laughing. "Fuck! The bitch puked on me!"he barked. He climbed off the bed as Skank pulled her hair back. My poor love gasped for air, choking as I looked on helplessly. Brute was still battering her pussy to wet pulp, my face barely a foot away, wet sounds insulting my ears as he fucked her hard, Bald went for a towel to clean up his genitals, and Skank released her hair, climbed off the bed, and stripped her pants down. "I'll clean her up," she said, as Beard dropped his pants, and began removing his shirt. Naked from the waist down and wearing a black leather vest, Skank climbed over Carrie and squatted over her face. "Here comes the rinse cycle!" she announced, and Brute lunged his cock all the way in her, to the base, making her mouth drop open as she cried out. As she screamed from the deepest penetration she'd ever endured, a stream of fluid trickled from Skank's parted legs, turning into a full stream hosing as she released her urine into Carrie's desperate face. I closed my eyes, unable to watch as Skank pissed on my lover, Brute quietly holding himself deep inside her, the room silent but for the splashing of urine rinsing the vomit from my dear lover's face, and her gasps and sputterings as she struggled for breath around the offensive stream, and laughs from the onlookers. I heard the splashing subside, and opened my eyes to see Skank climbing off, laughing. Beard went to her head then and held his cock near her face. "Take it, sweetie, don't make me force you," he warned, and her eyes, still stinging from urine, blinked rapidly and settled on his throbbing erection. "Go ahead, take it. Want it. You know you do," he teased. I watched her mouth open as she brought her head to his cock, and wrapped the head in her lips, those lips I loved to kiss. Her cheeks sunk in as she sucked him, pretending to enjoy it to protect me from harm, and my heart sunk and shattered. My poor, lovely girlfriend, pretending to enjoy this stranger's hard cock in her mouth, making herself do it enthusiastically, just to save my worthless hide. It was devastating. Bald returned to the scene then, stripped completely now, and tapped Brute on the shoulder. Brute nodded, and pulled hi shaft slowly from Carrie's pussy. I watched as each inch of his massive tool emerged, wet and slick, and I took some small comfort in arousing her for his meat. As the head emerged her lips stretched, seeming near to split her open, and she groaned as he held it just inside her opening, keeping it at the once-tight ring of her vagina. Then it popped out, leaving her red, swollen pussy wide open, and I heard her sigh, as if from dismay. Bald and Brute laughed. "She fucking loves my cock, man," Brute muttered. "Well then, she'll really enjoy this!" Bald answered. And lying on his back, began lifting Carrie's body up, Bald assisting, until his prone body was beneath hers, both on their backs, his cock up between her legs. Skank appeared, and squirted some jelly on his cock, and stroked his shaft as I watched, fearful of what might happen. Carrie was still sucking on Beard's cock as if my life depended on her enthusiasm, when Skank reached between her legs and pulled her ass cheeks apart. Holding them open with one hand, she took Bald's shaft in the other, and forced it up between Carrie's cheeks, aiming the tip at Carrie's tight back door. Carrie tried to wiggle her hips away, but to no avail. Bald reached over her body and grabbed her nipples, twisting and pulling them. "Ask for it!" he grunted. "Beg me, or we will beat your boyfriend bloody!" Carrie pulled her mouth off Beard's slick shaft. "P- please," she stuttered, and my heart broke, knowing that she would beg for mercy, and that they would deny her. "Oh, please," she repeated, pleading, "Please put your cock in my ass and fuck me!" As my heart stopped Bald pushed his hips up, and Skank held his cock steady for him with one hand and pushed down on Connie's pubic mound with the other. The head of his cock pushed at her delicate crinkle, then opened it, and pushed inside. Carrie howled. "That's right!" Bald yelled into her ear, "Take it. Fucking beg me for more!" "Please," Carrie cried, and I could see tears in her eyes as Beard's cock rubbed her face, streaking her with her own saliva and his pre-cum, "Please, put your cock in my ass!" "Say it dirty, bitch," he instructed as he pushed, and she cried out as his head pushed further inside her stretching her rear hole. "Fuck my ass! Fuck it hard! Shove you hard cock up my dirty shit hole and fuck me!" I was crushed by the lengths she was going to in order to protect me, and my helplessness brought tears to my eyes. Through my weeping I could make out his blurred cock, about halfway inside her ass, slipping further, until it was buried inside her tight back door. The insertion distended her pussy outwards, making it bulge towards me, and opening her more. I thought I saw her juices running out of her open hole, but it was probably my tears. Then Brute returned between her legs. "I'm back, baby," he growled, "don't leave me hanging. Tell me like you told him!" "Oh, fuck, yeah, give me that big cock," Carrie encouraged him, her head lifted up, and glaring at him, eyes bulging wide. "Shove that fucking man-meat in my cunt and fuck me in my pussy and ass!" "You got it!" he sneered, and in one thrust shoved his entire length inside her, opening her pussy wider, filling her pussy, and making her tummy bulge up from the two cocks inside. She howled in her degradation, and her voice tore at my heart, but her cries were cut off as Beard returned his cock to her lips, and she opened and sucked in most of his length, gagging herself, knowing she needed to sacrifice her throat for me. Skank was at my side, laughing and wiping my tears, and whispering in my ear as the three big men ravaged my girl, my love, against her will, enforcing her sacrifice. "She's some slut, huh, Jeffie Boy?" she goaded me. "Look at her taking all that cock!" She had not put her pants back on, and her leather vest hung open now, exposing her obviously fake tits. She put her face next to mine, rubbing her cheek on mine as she leaned over my shoulder, watching Carrie get fucked by her three friends. "I thought she would resist longer, didn't you? I mean, she was all scared, and begging and all, and then she kind of went along, for your sake," she laughed derisively. "But look at her now," she breathed hotly into my ear. "That's no act, eh, Jeffie?" Still unable to turn my head, I was spared the malicious grin I heard in her voice. But I was not spared the vision I had when her words pulled the veil of my love's delusion from my eyes. Carrie was sucking madly on Beard's cock, slurping and licking and pushing her head down on the shaft, forcing herself to gag on his length, all the while pumping her hips in time to the powerful thrusts of the two men impaling her ass and pussy. Occasionally Beard would pull his cock from her mouth, rubbing the slicked shaft over her face, and she would coo and mewl her desire, until he cajoled her to urge them on, and she would spew a string of vile filth to the cocks debasing her. I felt my breath escape me as I watched Brute's massive tool pump what was once her love nest, but was now a wet, stretched and swollen fuck hole. His shaft was slicked with her juices, and the excess flowed down below her pussy to lubricate her clearly eager ass hole. "Fuck my ass, give it to me hard," she cried out, "Oh, God, you're splitting me in two with your giant cock, you bastard, fuck my cunt! Fuck me!" "Fuck, this is so hot, my pussy is dripping," Skank hissed. My eyes darted down to see her hand slip between her own legs, and then come up to my face. I smelled her scent, and she smeared her fingers across my closed lips as her other hand grabbed my cock. "Are you getting hard watching your girlfriend fuck like a whore?" As she rubbed my crotch I realized, to my shame, that I was indeed hard, and she laughed softly in my ear. "You worthless piece of shit," she chuckled, "getting off on seeing your lover fuck three men at once. What kind of man are you?" She squeezed my shaft hard as she spoke, and my guilt and humiliation made me wilt in her grasp. I would have hung my head if I could, but had to close my eyes tightly to stop seeing the reality. A change in the grunts and wails bade me to open my eyes again; I saw the men jerking spasmodically now, thrusting hard jerks into her ass, pussy and mouth. Beard bellowed and pulled his cock from Carrie's mouth, shooting multiple ropes of thick semen across her open mouth and face. She didn't turn her head; rather she laid her tongue out flat, trying to catch as much as she could. Then Bald began yanking her nipples as he grunted loudly, and I could see his balls clench; the giant globes in his sack pulled up tight as he dumped a load of his own into her bowels. The excess formed a white frothy ring around his cock at her dilated anal muscle. And then Brute howled, and drove his cock deep into her. She screamed as he stretched her deeply, shooting his load, filling her once-lovely pussy, and turning it into a messy, cum-filled used cunt. My breath caught listening to her coax them. "Oh, yeah, fill me up, fill my ass and cunt with your hot cum, fuck, I can feel your cum in me." I stared at her face with dismay, seeing it coated with gooey white streaks dripping down her chin, one eye plastered shut, cum on her nose, and covering the lips that cooed her delight. "O-oh, yeah, fill me with cum, it's so hot, so fucking hot in me..." Her words trailed off and disappeared with my love. I hadn't realized my eyes were closed until I felt the chair move. I was being pushed towards her, still fixed in my chair, and again they leaned me forward, my eyes opening just in time to see her two holes, gaping open and swollen, leaking gobs of thick, disgusting semen, and then Skank was pushing my head down, pressing my face into her crotch. The harsh smell of cum assaulted my nose right before my mouth was pushed into her, and the pool of liquid smeared into my face and chin. "Clean it out, Jeffie Boy," Skank urged, "Lick that cunt and ass, suck the cum out of your slut!" I couldn't see, couldn't breathe, my nose was pressed into her clit, and my mouth opened for air, only to be filled by a glob of hot cum as her hips pulsed. "Lick that cunt, lick that ass," I heard, and I swallowed, trying to clear my mouth to breathe as Carrie's hips hitched higher, my nose slipping into her gaping pussy as her spewing asshole met my open mouth. Another spurt of come filled my mouth as I gasped for breath. "Lick that ass, suck the cum out of my ass," I heard, but not Skank this time, it was Carrie, urging me to clean her out, to love her cum-filled ass and pussy with my tongue and lips, and my devotion to her answered her as I speared my tongue up her used asshole, licking out the residue of her anal violation. I heard her respond, sighing softly at my attention, and cleaned out her ass, and then she lowered her hips and I did the same for her used and battered pussy, soothing her opening with my tongue and lips, sucking the offending fluids from her, cleaning her out and swallowing the vile offering. And then she lowered again, offering me her hard clit; for me, I thought, trying to convince myself still, her clit is hard for me, and I licked her hard, the way she likes it when she's ready to cum, and she humped my face, responding as she always had, and drenched me in her juices as she climaxed on my mouth. I licked her through her orgasm, feeling the pulses in her pussy as she rode the wave of her delight, for me, I told myself, only for me, not for them, I denied. I soothed her aching and abused lips and opening with soft tender strokes of my tongue and gentle kisses as her crest peaked, and subsided, and then she was still. My face was still pressed by my weight into her wet crotch as the room went silent. Tears filled my eyes as the realization of what she had done, what I had witnessed and done, came crashing into me. I heard motion behind me, and words spoken quietly, but couldn't hear them, didn't WANT to hear them. I heard clothes rustling, and then my chair was pulled back upright, and turned to the side. Frank was there. The thugs were untying Carrie. Frank looked at her, then at me. "Get out," he said. "You wanted her; you can have her." There was a look of disgust on his face, and I didn't know if it was for me, or for his wife. "The slut's yours, now. Both of you get the fuck out." I felt a tug behind my head, and saw the flash of a long blade as Skank cut the tape away, and then again as my arms, chest and legs were freed. I turned as they dragged Carrie's limp body off the bed and threw the used, wet sheet on her. "Take her, Lover Boy, she's all yours," he laughed, and his crew laughed with him. I stood stiffly, the smell of pussy and cum still in my nostrils, and bent to help her up. "Her clothes," I managed, and was struck hard in the back of my head, making me see stars and reviving the sharp pain from the previous blows. "Fuck you!" Frank shouted. "She leaves here the way she came to me, with nothing! Get her the fuck out!" I bundled my love's used body in the sheet, still wet and stinking of piss, and helped her to her feet. Head down, properly subdued and defeated, I slinked out with my arm holding Carrie on her feet, and we made our way out of Frank's house of horrors. * For three days she stayed in bed, and I didn't go to work, staying home to take care of her. She didn't speak, and hid her eyes from me, even as I bathed her. She wouldn't eat, and I could barely get her to drink water. When my boss threatened to fire me I had to go back to work. I left food and water at her bedside, and reluctantly left the house. When I returned home that evening she was gone. He cell was on the kitchen table next to a certified mail envelope, and the divorce papers from Frank. I glanced through it. She would get nothing. I looked at her phone; there were no recent calls, but there was one text message. SIGN IT. YOU SHOULD SEE THE VIDEO. My heart sank and I collapsed in a chair, wondering where she was, what she was doing, and how she had reacted to the letter and the news of a video, which I had to assume was of her ordeal. After a while I busied myself making dinner, but never ate, hoping she would return, and things could go back to normal, or at least we would be together. I know she was suffering inside at enjoying herself in front of me, and was tormented by the demons she knew lived inside her, just as I was still shocked at her behavior. But I knew my love for her could rise above out problems; I could get past it, if she would just let me in, talk to me, be with me again, like before. Eventually I stopped puttering aimlessly around the house, and settled on the couch to watch nothing on television, wondering all the while where she was and what she was doing. I was awakened in the middle of the night by a sound, and sat up to see her staggering up the stairs. I called to her but she didn't answer, so I followed her up, catching her as she entered our small bedroom. I grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, and as she spun she lost her balance and fell, sitting, against the doorway. She reeked of alcohol, and was clearly drunk. She slurred some unintelligible words. I reached for the light switch and turned it on, and she winced against the sudden brightness, her head lolling to the side, her legs splayed out beneath her short skirt. It had ridden up as she fell, and she was not wearing underwear. I saw cum leaking from her pussy, and noticed her shirt was torn and open, and there were remnants of cum in her hair and on her face. I sobbed as I undressed her and took her into the bathroom, and soaked her in the tub, washing the results of her night away, as though erasing the evidence would erase the facts. I was still crying when I helped her to bed. I didn't go to work the next day. Our life continued like that for several months, in silence and growing despair. The divorce finalized, and we tried to get her some new clothes, but honestly, I don't make all that much money, and I had been missing work, so money was tight. Every once in a while I would come home from work and she'd be gone; the next day would begin another series of days she couldn't look at me, and more that she wouldn't talk. She never told me what she did or where she'd gone. After a few months of erratic attendance, I was fired, and we decided to move, to another city, a new job a fresh start, we hoped. Before leaving we had a long talk, about us, about her behavior. I still loved her, and told her so. She admitted that she loved me, and quietly admitted her shame at enjoying the abuse she'd suffered, and her guilt and confusion at how she had behaved. She apologized for her behavior, and promised to try to talk more to me, but she confessed a weakness, a need to blot out her memories. She knew she drank too much, too often, and admitted some drug use, and confessed that she had done 'things' while under the influence. I forgave her all her transgressions, and promised that a new start, somewhere new, would be best, and she agreed half-heartedly, and promised to try and be strong, for me, for us. The first few weeks in the new place went by all right, but she soon became despondent and sullen and sad, and moped around the house. In my new job I could not take time off to watch her, and left the house daily hoping for the best. But one day I came home and she wasn't there, and I knew the cycle was starting again, and I felt my connection to her crumbling despite my love. She didn't come home for three days. Her disappearances continued then, becoming more frequent and often spanning more than a day. As was always the case she would come home drunk or hung over, or stoned, or coming down from a high, and always used and defiled. We began fighting about it. Once I came home and there were strangers in our rented house, drugs and alcohol everywhere, and she was in the bedroom, bent over the foot of the bed getting fucked in the ass as she ate another woman's cunt. I blew a fit, and threw everyone out of the house, and she argued with me, and left with them. She didn't come back. * I didn't see her again for five years, when I came home from work one day, and she was sitting on my front steps with a duffle bag. She stood as I approached, and I looked at her, drinking in the vision of her, older and thinner now, looking like she had aged ten years in the five that had passed. "Hello, Carrie," I said, holding myself away from her. I felt the familiar stirrings of my feelings for her, but with them came the warnings of betrayal and abandonment, and I held myself in check. "Hi, Jeff. Long time," she said cautiously. I looked down at her bag. "What's up?" I asked, trying to sound non-committal. She was blocking my path to my own door, but I didn't want to create a scene. "I wanted to come by and say hello," she said softly. "I've been ... away." She looked up at me, searching my eyes hopefully. "How have you been?" "Good," I answered vaguely. I was doing well at work now, but my personal life was a shambles of failed relationships and missed opportunities. "Work is going well." You Can Have Her She shuffled from one foot to the other, looked down, then off into the distance a little before looking back at me. "I'm sober now," she offered, "two years." "That's good," I said honestly, and added, "I'm proud of you." And I meant it. "I, uh, went through kind of a rough patch there, at the end," she said. "Hit bottom. You know." I didn't, but I pretended I did. I wondered what her bottom was, and then wondered why I cared. "I wanted to come by, you know," she meandered, "I wanted to apologize." She looked down at her hands, then back up at me, tucking a strand of her hair, longer now, behind her ear. "I was pretty bad, I treated you badly," she said. "You didn't deserve that, and I'm sorry." "I'm over it," I told her, "It's a long time ago. But thanks." "You always treated me well, always loved me, even when I was cruel to you, and acted badly," she said. "I was confused, and hurt, then; I was guilty and ashamed of myself." She brushed that loose strand of hair back again. "I struggled with myself, trying to reconcile what I had done, how it felt, with how I saw myself." She looked off into the distance. "I was trying to forget, and trying to deny it, and punishing myself for what I did." "It's a long time ago, Carrie," I repeated. "If you're looking for forgiveness, I don't know if I can give you that." "I know," she said wistfully. "I don't expect it. Frankly, I don't deserve it." She sucked in a big breath. "I was terrible, and uncaring and selfish." She heaved another sigh. "After I left, I was angry and bitter, and I took it out on myself." She visibly steeled herself, straightening her spine. "I ... uh ...wallowed in my self-pity and indulged myself. I really descended into ... well, I went really low." "Worse than what I witnessed?" She blew out a breath. "A lot worse," she confessed. "You can't imagine." "I still loved you when you left," I interjected, and wondered why. "You really hurt me." I added, and then the words, built up for so long, spilled out of me. "I was hurting too, then, and I wanted to help you, to help us." She turned her head away, and I reached for her arm, turning her back to me. "I wanted to help you. I knew you were suffering. But you wouldn't let me in. It killed me to see what you did to yourself. But it was worse because I loved you, and you wouldn't let me in, wouldn't let me help." She looked at me for a long time, and I watched her eyes, hardened by her years of abuse, soften and make her face more open, more wanting. "I know," she finally sighed. "I was terrible, and I'm sorry." Her voice was wounded and vulnerable, and I looked at her through the eyes of my memory of her, of our love, of that night, and of her months of betrayal and debauchery. Despite myself I felt longing for her, for the woman I had known before, and the suffering, self-destructive person she became. "What's with the bag?" I asked. "Oh," she said, motioning with her head, and blinking nervously, "It's nothing, I just.." "Do you have somewhere to stay?" "Actually, no, but don't worry, I'll find...." "Do you want to stay here?" I asked, not understanding why I offered. "You know," I gave her an out, "until you find someplace?" She looked at me then, and I thought I saw the Carrie from before, the wonderful, sensitive woman I'd fallen in love with. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I know some people..." "No you don't," I offered her. "Not the people you want to ask, you know that." I bent down and picked up her bag. "You can stay here," I told her, and her demeanor relaxed a little. I stopped before we went in. "We're not going to pick up where we left off," I warned. "No, I know," she confirmed. "It's temporary, till you get on your feet." "Sure, I understand. Jeff, I can't thank you enough..." "It's not a problem," I said, smiling to myself. "It's what friends are for." She reached for me but I stepped around her and opened the door. To what, I didn't know. Maybe it could work between us again, maybe I was kidding myself. I held the door open, and she smiled as she passed me, and stepped into my house.